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Her tongue traces a path up my length, circling the sensitive head without taking me back into her mouth. Just enough contact to keep me on edge, not enough to push me over.
“Whitley,” I warn, voice strained.
She looks up at me through her lashes, all innocent eyes and wicked smile. “Yes?”
“Don’t tease.”
“But I’m so good at it,” she purrs, dragging her nails lightly down my chest. She wraps her hand around me again, pumping slowly, bringing me close before easing off completely.
My breath comes in ragged pants as she repeats the torture. The pressure builds in my spine, a hot coil of tension that tightens with every stroke of her hand, every swirl of her tongue. It’s exquisite agony, the way she brings me right to the precipice and then backs off. My balls draw up tight, every nerve ending screaming for release.
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to flip her over and take what I need. But I gave her control, and fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced—this sweet torture, this maddening denial. My cock throbs with the need to come, pre-cum leaking from the tip. My thighs tremble with the effort of holding still. My abs clench and release as she takes me back between her lips, and I nearly come undone right there. The wet heat of her mouth is overwhelming, perfect, and exactly what I need. But then she pulls back again, leaving me throbbing and desperate in the cool air.
“Jesus Christ,” I gasp, my voice breaking.
She hums against my thigh, the vibration traveling straight to my aching cock. My vision blurs at the edges. Every muscle in my body is locked tight, trembling with the effort of not grabbing her hair and taking control. The pressure is unbearable now.
She strokes me slowly. “I can feel how badly you want it.”
My breath comes in harsh pants when I finally say, “I need…”
Her eyes flash with triumph. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” I grit out, refusing to give her the satisfaction.
She clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “That’s too bad.” Her hand squeezes at the base of my length. “I thought I heard the beautiful beginning of begging.” She leans over me, her hair cascading around us like a curtain of fire. “I think I want to hear it again.”
I clench my jaw, fighting against the need building inside me. But when she dips her head again, taking me between those perfect lips and sucking hard, I can’t hold back the groan that tears from my throat.
“Whitley, please.”
She hums, satisfied, and strokes me with maddening slowness. “Please what?”
“Please let me—” I cut off with a curse as she swipes her thumb over the sensitive head, collecting the bead of moisture there.
“Let you what?” she teases, eyes bright with wicked delight. “Come? Or maybe…” She leans closer, her breath hot against my ear. “Maybe you want me to ride you. Is that it?”
“Yes,” I growl, my hands moving to her hips of their own accord.
She tsks. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
I stare up at her, chest heaving. She’s pushed me to the edge of something I’ve never allowed myself to reach. Complete surrender.
“I need to fuck you,” I rasp, voice strained with need. “I need to feel you stretch around me, taking every inch while I watch you come apart. I want you to ride me until neither of us can fucking breathe.”
Her eyes darken, pupils blown so wide there’s barely any color left around them.
“I want to dig my fingers into those perfect hips and slam you down on my cock,” I continue, the words pouring out raw and unfiltered. “I want to watch those perfect tits bounce while you take what you need from me. I want to come so deep inside you that you feel me for days.”
She bites her lip, her breathing shallow and quick. “Well,” she drawls, “since you asked so nicely.”
She reaches behind to unclasp her bra. The garment falls away, revealing perfect breasts that make my mouth go dry. I reach up, unable to resist any longer, and cup them in my palms. Her eyes flutter closed as I brush my thumbs across her nipples, sitting up to take one peak into my mouth.
She gasps, arching into me, her fingers threading through my hair to hold me closer. “God, Beau.”
I switch to the other breast, teasing and tasting until she’s squirming in my lap and grinding against my aching erection. When I pull back, her cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed with need.
“My turn to beg,” she pants, pushing me back against the mattress. “Please, I need you inside me.”
